Postcoital Pancakes and Pyjama Pants
by Kelly1
Summary: Avalanche/Quicksilver, set after episode 18. Dominic wants to surprise Pietro to cheer him up. Banter-y WAFFy-Angsty hybrid Preview: "So, do I still get a surprise maybe? Or are you mad at me now because of my raging elbows of fury style kung fu?"


If Dominic Petros saw Magneto again, he would murder him. He didn't mean that in an oh-I-am-going-to-murder-Mortimer-for-leaving-mysterious-slime-in-the-shower-again kind of way. No. He would unleash everything he had on Erik Magnus Lehnsherr until one of their hearts stopped beating. Not for abandoning their division, not for handing them over to the MRD, not for forcing them out of their home, but for this--for what he had done to his own son, to the man Avalanche loved. Dominic pulled the lithe figure closer, felt the shuddering sobs shake him to the core. Tears soaked the chest of his thin undershirt.

The moonlight streaming through the frayed curtains illuminated Pietro, pale hair on stark skin: more fragile, more ethereal than usual--too transient for this world. In the tattered fabric, Dominic could almost see the delicate threads which had held Pietro here, shredded mercilessly from the fallout with his father. A man who could be anywhere in the world in a matter of hours, why remain here, with him, in this rundown motel?

**Post-coital Pancakes and Pyjama Pants**

Pietro was jolted awake by movement. A bleary glimpse of a hulking figure standing over the bed before his eyes were covered. The MRD? His father's Acolytes? It didn't matter now, either group meant capture or worse. He struggled to free himself from the restraints, his elbow connecting hard with his foe. _Ha!_

"Gamo!"[1]

Pietro felt the smug satisfaction drain out of him. He recognized that voice. "Dom?" Sleep dissipated rapidly. He realized now that he was not in restraints, but tangled in sheets. Lifting the loosely tied blindfold from his eyes, he saw a chagrined Avalanche sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I said to myself, 'Does Pietro like surprises?' 'Of course, Dominic, every person loves surprises.'" He rubbed his jaw. "You do not love surprises."

"No, I'm sorry. I just, you know, wasn't expecting it." He nudged his way under the crook of Dominic's arm.

"I think you are maybe missing the whole point of _'surprise.'_" Dominic rolled his eyes at Pietro, but he was grinning. "I will remember this for your thirtieth birthday party next month. Guests will have a terrible time being elbowed in the face. Cake everywhere. Tragedy. I will turn down the invitation."

Pietro laughed in spite of himself. "That'll teach them for wishing me well."

"The nerve of some people." Dominic squeezed him into his side, kissing the top of his head

"So, do I still get a surprise maybe? Or are you mad at me now because of my raging elbows of fury style kung fu?"

"You mean lucky sucker shot kung fu. Hrm, I guess that depends on whether you go along with the blindfold or keep squirming impatiently and trying to see what is behind me."

"Me? Impatient?" Pietro widened his eyes innocently, still moving his head ever so slightly in an attempt to peek over his shoulder.

Dominic firmly wrapped his arm around his waist, holding him in place, with a look that was clearly unimpressed.

"Um... I love you?"

He leaned inwards, a smile cracking his perturbed facade, and kissed Pietro softly on the tip of his nose. "One of these days I am going to stop falling for that."

"Operation:Spandex is my contingency plan. Quicksilver bum plus lycra equals un-mad Avalanche every time."

"I would love to get indignant and argue that, but facts are facts."

"Surprise now?" Pietro diligently pushed the blindfold down into place.

"There is often the most fun in the suspense." Dominic playfully pinned his elbows to his sides and laid him back onto the pillows, his body heavy and close, scented of cracked leather and aftershave and the sweat that lingers in bedrooms. Godbless Greece, men did not smell like that in America. Pietro gasped as dozens of warm, wet, soft fireflies traced his neck, his collar bone. They slowed agonizingly, teasing a trail down his bare chest, across his stomach, his back arching instinctually to meet each one, to feel the delicate press of lips on his electric skin. He barely heard the deep throaty chuckle as strong thumbs slid over his hip bones, easing the tight pants down. A finger running just under the elastic of his boxer-briefs, followed by a hard, deliberate kiss at the top of his pelvic bone...then nothing.

The mattress shifted as Dominic got off of the bed. Pietro was confused. He attempted once more to remove the blindfold but a hand caught his, squeezing it gently. "What did I just say?"

"You were saying things? I was kind of distracted."

Another laugh; weathered, rough fingers stroked his jaw line with surprising tenderness. "You be patient, Pie."

"But I'm terrible at it."

"I know you are, but I have to set up first." His curiosity blazed. There was an indecent amount of clattering at the foot of the bed. Pietro couldn't imagine what kind of apparatus Dominic had purchased that involved this kind of set-up. Was that glass he just heard? He did not sign up for glass. He and Dominic had a tendency to get... vigorous at times and he did not want to get inadvertently shanked by a wayward broken sliver. One mortifying emergency room visit was enough, thank you very much; though they _had_ learned the valuable lesson of ensuring things had a base. He was brought out of his thoughts by warm hands gently tugging material up over his behind.

"Uh, Dom? I hate to criticize, but I think you're doing it wrong. Our clothes are supposed to come off."

"Shh, do not say that. You are going to hurt his feelings."

What. The. Hell. Sure, they were pretty open about their sex life, but a threesome wasn't something you just sprang on your partner. And how had he missed someone else coming into the room? "Whose feelings?"

The blindfold was pulled off. Dominic's face was inches from his, an indecipherable grin twisting his mouth. He snapped the waistband of Pietro's pants. "MacAngus'."

Pietro looked down, elated. 'MacAngus' was what he called his favourite pair of pyjama bottoms, named the most stereotypically Scottish thing he could think of in honour of their garish red plaid. He had had them for years, the flannel worn and thin in places from repeated washings. They were hideous. They were his most prized possession--warm and soft and ridiculously comfortable. When Pietro and Dominic had first started sleeping together, Dominic had proclaimed them the least sexy sleepwear in existence. The next day he had found them at the bottom of the trashcan in the office. Pietro had been aghast at his blasphemy. That night, he had told Dominic in no uncertain terms that he had been sharing a bed with MacAngus long before he came along, and if it came down to an ultimatum, he would chose the pants. Of course, Dominic still grumbled when he wore them, tried to tempt him away on occasion with silk boxers, but Pietro had his moral victory.

He thought he would never see them again. After rescuing the X-Douches, the team had attempted to go back to their base. Of course, now that its location had been compromised, their intent had been to retrieve their possessions and move on. It was already crawling with the MRD when they had returned. The Brotherhood had decided that a fight was not worth it that night. It was late and they were exhausted from the battle with the sentinels. When things cooled off in a few days they would try again, once the federalies were done combing the place for clues of their whereabouts, for Magneto's plans. As if his father would have shared something so important with such a disappointment.

"What is wrong? I thought you would be excited."

"No, I am." Pietro smiled as genuinely as he could, planting a firm kiss on his lips. His father was not important anymore. Pietro didn't care about him. He didn't. He cared about Dominic. Dominic, who had held him, a sobbing, shaking, embarrassing mess, until he fell asleep. Dominic, who had risked so much to get him this stupid little thing to make him happy. "Just worried. You shouldn't have done that; you could've gotten caught."

"I took Neena with me after you fell asleep. We got lucky; the higher-ups were gone for the night. She took out one of the guards with her first shot. The other two were napping the whole time in their van. We just strolled in there."

"You know, sometimes I think she has an even lamer power than Mortimer, but then I hear stories like that and can't help but be a little jealous."

"And that is only the first part of your surprise. I also made you chocolate chip pancakes." He gestured to a plate on the bedside table. Chocolate chip pancakes were, of course, Pietro's favourite food. His relationship with Dominic had only served to make them more significant.

It had started as an occasional occurrence. Pietro had an extremely efficient metabolism, but after bouts of extreme exertion, he still needed to replenish. He had gotten away with it the first few times; Dominic had a tendency to fall asleep almost immediately after they were done. Pietro could slip away with excuses of going to the washroom and he was none the wiser. He remembered that first time he was caught, Dominic standing at the kitchen doorway looking for him because he hadn't returned to bed, Pietro elbow deep in flour and milk and eggs and water. He thought he was going to catch shit for sure. Dominic had simply sauntered in, taken a handful of chocolate chips to eat, and kissed the batter off of Pietro's forehead. It was now tradition. The people who smoked cigarettes didn't know what they were missing.

"We're staying in a motel, though. There aren't any stoves. How did you make pancakes?"

Dominic rolled his eyes for the second time that morning. "Fine, I purchased take-out pancakes from the diner up the street. Remind me why I love you again? You dissect everything."

Pietro didn't know. No one loved him, not even his family, the people who were supposed to unconditionally. No one should love him. He was flawed and wrong and selfish and unsure about everything. He didn't deserve Dominic's love. Love belonged to the perfect, the right, the just--not to people like him.

Dominic's arms were around him with a speed that surprised even Pietro. "Oh P, I was just teasing, please do not look like that. I did not think." A lump rose in Pietro's throat and he didn't trust himself to speak. "I only wanted to do this to make you feel better, do not be sad because of it. I just thought you deserved a day where all you needed to think about was you."

Pietro waited until the lump subsided, his eyes hot and wet but no longer threatening to spill over. He tried to grin at Dominic. "You know I'm a narcissist, Dom, thinking about myself is kind of what I do. Granted, it's probably because I'm so epically awesome."

"No." Dominic had a way of not letting Pietro gloss over his problems, forcing him to confront and discuss instead of hiding behind his typical bravado. Pietro hated him for it, loved him for it. "I meant you should think about what you want. Just you, not him." The venom in Dominic's voice on that last word was palpable. Even without saying it, Pietro knew they were talking about his father.

"I just keep replaying it over in my head. 'You are of no further use to me.' Who says that? Who says that to their son?! I've spent my whole life trying to be useful to him. It's what defines me. I have no idea what to do with myself now."

"Pietro, there are so many other things that define you, things he cannot touch. You are clever and charming and funny and brave and impossibly stubborn and... and none of that is him. None of that is him. That is you. That is Pietro Maximoff. That is the man I am in love with."

"I, just...it's hard not being under his thumb anymore. I got used to the pressure." He felt directionless without it.

"But your life does not have to be like that. It should not be like that." He wove his fingers through Pietro's. "We will take small steps. Think, what do you want to do?"

"Uh..." Last night, the decision to rescue the X-Men had come so simply. He wanted to help take down the sentinels, to cripple Kelly's war on mutantkind, to maybe do some good in the world for once. Now he could think of nothing. Wait...do some good in the world for once. "Our name. I want to change our team name."

"Our name?"

"I hate 'Brotherhood of _Evil_ Mutants.' We're not evil, we're just people."

"Okay, good. See, that is just for you. What do you want to change it to?"

"Um... the Brotherhood of Morally Grey Mutants?"

Dominic knit his eyebrows tactfully. "Maybe we keep working on that."

"Fair. It _does_ lack marketability."

"No one would buy the action figures. What else do you want to do now that you are a free man?" Pietro caught the slight waiver in Dominic's voice; almost gasped as the force of what wasn't being said hit him. Now that Pietro wasn't obligated by orders to stay with the Brotherhood, Dominic thought he was going to leave. Why would he leave the only thing that kept him sane?

Pietro swiftly unbuttoned Dominic's shirt, running his fingers down the taut stomach muscles, his skin golden in the morning light. "Well, what I would love to do is eat these pancakes you brought me." He flicked his tongue over the olive nipple, felt Dominic's body tense beneath him. "But, I haven't quite worked up an appetite for them yet."

Dominic grinned, pulling Pietro tighter towards him, working at the ties which held MacAngus in place. "I think I could help with that."

End.

[1] Gamo = Fuck in Greek. I am a firm believer that everyone swears and counts in their native language. Nothing you say can persuade me otherwise.

A/N: Facts: I am a total reviewwhore. Just saying.


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